Jukebox Hero
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: While investigating a rash of mysterious deaths, Dean finds a new distraction. As they look into the case, Dean’s distraction might prove fatal. Hurt!Dean! Now Complete!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story is dedicated to Dennis, the best guy a girl could ever have. He not only puts up with my little obsession, he encourages me. He reads my fic, betas, offers insight into "man" behavior, helps with titles (Feral is all his fault), enjoys a little (or, luckily, a lot) of hurt and knows more about metal than Dean. And if that isn't enough, he shared a hotel room in LA with three crazed fangirls, went to the convention with me and—best of all—totally challenged Jared to Guitar Hero, and Jared's reply? "Bring it on." Sadly, there was no chance for that epic battle, it would have been awesome, someday perhaps! So, for all that and so much more this story is for him. Happy Birthday! Special thanks to TraSan. Story is set Season Two_

**Jukebox Hero**

**Chapter One**

It was a nearly perfect late spring day. The sun was shining, there was a soft wind, warm without being hot, carrying the scent of the thousands of roses planted along the roads. The window of the Impala was down and Sam was enjoying the soft day as he drove towards the motel. The scent of pizza filled the car, blending with the roses, for some reason reminding Sam of a trip when he was seven and he and Dean had spent the night in the Impala waiting for their father and Bobby to return from a hunt.

Sam sighed, unconsciously slowing the car as he got closer to the motel. Dread began to burble up through his chest. He pulled the car into the spot outside the room and grabbed the pizza and beer, hoping it would be enough to distract his brother. Sam walked slowly towards the room, resting his head on the door, not ready to face it all, hoping against hope that something had changed since he went in search of food. Coming back to the motel was getting increasingly difficult, knowing what was waiting for him. _I can't believe it's only been a week…_

A jubilant shout from Dean drifted through the door. Sam banged his head against the portal and then opened it, walking into the room. Dean looked up at him, grinning. "Hundred freaking percent, Sammy! 'Bang Your Head', played perfectly by Dean Winchester, Guitar God." Dean chuckled. "I beat the whole thing on medium."

"Nice."

"Lighten up, Sammy, maybe after we eat you'd like a little face-off?" Dean stood and walked over to the small table.

"Dean…"

"Please?" Dean asked, his eyes shining.

Sam sighed, his brother got so much joy out of the stupid game, but he had to admit to himself he regretted ever going into that store a week before.

**One Week Earlier**

It was the kind of store that Sam could get lost in for a week. Books lined the walls, infusing the air with their distinctive scent. Tables were covered with myriad items from around the world. Sam had settled down on a small stool between a bookcase and a counter covered with amulets and other protective talismans. With a happy sigh, he pulled another book off the shelf and thumbed through the brittle pages.

"You about ready?" Dean's voice broke into his reading.

Sam looked up, blinking for a minute to focus his eyes. "I thought you went to get coffee?"

"I did. Two cups and five donuts. I thought you'd be ready by now…"

"Just a little longer. I've found a few things I think we could use," Sam said, pointing to the box he'd been adding items to for the last three hours. "There were some interesting weapons in the back," he added, hoping to distract Dean long enough to finish searching through the store.

"Fine, fifteen minutes, Sam, no more," Dean grumbled and wandered towards the back of the store.

"Yeah, okay," Sam said, dropping the book in his box and grabbing another off the shelf. Several minutes later, he picked up his box and wandered to the next table. Sam poked through the various items, adding a small spell book to his box and moving on.

"Hey, Sammy, check it out." Dean suddenly appeared beside him, Sam looked up from the book he was reading. Dean had a box in his hand. "I can't believe it."

Sam blinked. "What?"

"Guitar Hero One, Two and Eighties, two guitar controllers and a PS2." Dean shoved the box into Sam's hands and pulled each item out to show Sam.

"Okay." Sam said dubiously, looking into the box.

"For thirty five bucks! One game, all by itself, is more than that." Dean chuckled and picked up the box. "Good thinking, coming in here. You ready? What's in your box?"

"A few books, one of them is a facsimile copy of James' _Daemonologie, In Forme of a Dialogue._ Do you know how rare that it? I also found several talismans, one or two odd ones, might come in handy and…"

"Guitar Hero," Dean said, walking to the counter. Sam followed and put his box beside Dean's. The store keeper smiled and rang up their items. Dean paid with cash, he'd won it the night before playing dart, chuckling over his find the whole time.

"Enjoy," the store keeper said as they left.

"Oh hell yeah," Dean said with a smile. "I can't believe it. Talk about luck."

"I didn't think you liked video games," Sam said.

Dean looked at him, a disapproving frown on his face. "Sammy, Sammy, this isn't just a video game, this is freaking Guitar Hero."

"Okay," Sam said, looking over at his brother.

"Just look at Guitar Hero One—Sabbath, Ozzy, Pantera, Motorhead. Number Two, more Sabbath, Dethklok, Guns 'N Roses. The Eighties one has Dio, Poison…"

"Yeah, okay, I think I've got it," Sam said, smiling in spite of himself. _Dean hasn't been this excited about something for a long time. _

"Let's get a pizza or something and go back and try it out."

"How about we head back, you can set up the game and I'll run out and get some food?" Sam suggested.

"That's even better, by the time you're back everything should be ready to go."

By the time Sam dropped Dean off at the motel, he was beginning to suspect letting Dean buy the game was a huge mistake. The thought of being trapped in a small room with Dean and some of his favorite bands on an endless loop was as appealing as facing an invading army of slime mold. _Actually that might be more fun…_

Sam found a local restaurant and ended up getting a rotisserie chicken and salad. On the way out, he noticed a strawberry pie on the pie rack, and ended up getting that as well. _Food is the best distraction. _Sam headed back to the motel. As he parked, he could hear music drifting out of their room. Sam sighed and opened the door.

"Dinner," he said, walking into the room.

"Just let me get through this one," Dean said. "I made it through the first two sets on easy already."

"Okay." Sam put the food one the table and waited. The song ended about three minutes later.

"Let me play just one more and I'm through this set," Dean said, glancing over at Sam.

"The food will get cold."

"Not in one song, Sam." Dean turned his attention back to the game.

Sam started in on dinner two songs later. By the end of the next set, Sam had finished a piece of pie as well and was surfing the net, hoping to find information on their latest hunt. From the information Bobby had given them, at first he'd thought they were dealing with a shtriga. It fit, perfectly, until they had found out that only one victim was a child. The rest were scattered in age from eighteen up to fifty. They all fell into a coma, then slowly degenerated, finally dying after five days. The doctors were stumped. Sam had spoken to three different physicians, and none had any idea what was happening. Encephalitis was the general consensus but the symptoms only partially matched the diagnosis.

"Hey, the food's cold," Dean said, sounding annoyed.

"It's been sitting there for two hours, Dean," Sam replied, equally annoyed.

"Really? Sorry, I just wanted to get all the way through on easy." Dean looked across the table. "What are you doing?"

"Researching." Sam sighed. "I'm not sure what we're looking for…"

"You don't think it's an epidemic of some kind? Like Dr. Woods said?" Dean smirked at Sam.

"Do you?"

"No, doesn't make sense." Dean frowned. "If it were all kids…"

"Shtriga, right, but it's not, and I can't find a common denominator. It would be helpful if we could talk to them."

"Or their families," Dean added.

"Yeah, but except for the kid, they were all living alone at the time."

"That's not really helpful." Dean pushed the chicken aside and grabbed the pie.

"No, not really. Bobby's right, there's something supernatural going on, I just can't figure out what it is."

"Yet, Sam. You haven't figured it out yet." Dean grinned. "Want to start on two with me? I thought I'd go all the way through each on easy, then go back and try medium. We could take turns…" Dean said in the cajoling tone he used to get whatever he wanted from his brother. It always worked.

Sam closed the laptop. "Okay, Dean, but just a few songs."

**XXX**

The sound of Sam's phone woke Dean. He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. Dean heard Sam answer, his voice calm, professional. _It must be the hospital. _They'd identified themselves as physicians from the CDC, and the hospital was keeping them up to date on the victims of the "epidemic."

"Dean?" Sam said. Dean ignored him. "Dean?" Sam shook his shoulder.

"I'm asleep."

"Drew Harrison just died."

Dean looked out from under the pillow. "What?"

"That was Leo Woods, he said…"

Dean sat up, blinking tears out of his eyes, the light streaming through the curtains seemed overly bright. "Like the others?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed, Dean heard the frustration in his brother's voice. "There's only one left at the hospital."

"There are no new victims, though, right?"

"Well…" Sam hesitated.

"What?" Dean stretched, groaning as he rolled his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Stiff neck, I must have slept wrong." He looked at Sam. "What?"

"There's a cycle. If I'm right, it will start up again soon."

"When?" Dean stood, rubbing his neck, trying to make the stabbing pain to go away.

"Today or tomorrow, someone should start getting sick. The acute symptoms will take a little longer."

"Is there any way to know who's next?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "There's no pattern to the victims that I can find. Not age, not gender, not location. Nothing to tie them together."

"Okay, I'm going to take a shower, then let's get breakfast."

"Then what?"

"Your call, geek boy."

After they ate, they headed to the hospital. The doctor told them he had no idea what was going on. Most of the symptoms pointed to encephalitis. "Except for the fact there's no evidence of viral infection, the lumbar puncture is clear, they don't respond to anti-virals or antibiotics," Dr. Leo Woods said, running his hands through his hair. "I don't know why. Do you two have any idea?"

"Nothing," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Then we're going to lose Jefferson, too, aren't we?" the doctor said more to himself than aloud. "Two days and he'll be dead, too, and nothing I can do about it. Damn."

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Dean said, absently rubbing his wrist. _I think I played a little too long last night. I should have heeded the warnings about taking a break for my wrists. Won't mention it, though, Sam would never let me live it down. _

"Nothing new. Most of the symptoms match, but not all. There doesn't seem to be any cause, but they are still dying. Harrison makes twelve, when Jefferson goes it will be thirteen—at least that's all of them." He sighed. "For the time being. We'll probably get someone new in three or four days. That's how it goes. We had a bunch come in at once this last time, but usually it's one dies, three or four days later someone shows up in the ER with the acute symptoms, two days after that, coma. Five days after that, death. Every single one and I have no answers. Nothing. Bupkess."

"Thank you," Sam said quietly. Dean knew his brother was responding to the near-despair in the doctor's voice. _We know how it is, people dying and nothing you can do to stop it. But maybe we can. _"Keep us informed, Leo."

"Sure, Sam, thanks. If you hear anything…"

"We'll call." Sam stood. Dean smiled at the doctor and trailed after his brother. "He's right, Dean, Jefferson is going to die unless we can find out what's going on."

"Let's go back to Harrison's apartment, look around again?" Dean said as they walked out of the hospital. He blinked in the bright sunlight.

"We've been there three times. You think we'll find anything new?" Sam pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "There was nothing there, books—nothing out of the ordinary, TV, DVD, game console, stereo, nothing that looks odd, nothing that screams 'supernatural'."

"Yeah, I know." Dean ran a hand across his face. His head was starting to hurt. "I just keep hoping… Three dead since we got here, another on the way and if you and Woods are right, someone new within a week."

"Why don't you drop me off at the library, I'll get back on the research."

"I'll go break into Jefferson's house. We've only been there once and we were in a hurry. I told you asking the landlady to let us in was a bad idea. She followed me the whole time we were in there." Sam grinned at him. "Shut up, Sam."

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, right." Dean pulled the car out of the lot, twisting his body to look to the left.

"Dean?" Sam was frowning at him. "What's wrong?"

"I told you I must have slept wrong. I think I pinched a nerve in my neck or something."

"Okay." Sam looked at him for a moment longer. "There's the library, be back at five?"

"Sure, we'll stop and get some food and head back to the motel. Play a little Hero before bed."

"A little, Dean, not five hours tonight, okay?"

"Buzz kill," Dean said as Sam got out of the car. He turned the stereo up as he pulled away, happily singing along with "Bark at the Moon." _That's supposed to be on Guitar Hero One. Maybe on medium? I'll have to find it tonight. _Dean sighed. _If I go through Jefferson's house fast, I could get a few hours of the game in before I go back to pick up Sam. _

Alex Jefferson lived in a small four-plex, luckily the apartment was the furthest one from the landlady's. Dean picked the lock and walked into the small living room. He wandered through the apartment, looking for anything that might give them an idea of what was happening. Dean ran a finger along the bookshelves, checked through the guys DVDs and games, looked at his CD collection, went through the kitchen. Everything he could think of—but there was nothing. _Not surprised, there was nothing before. _He looked at his watch. _Still a couple of hours, back to the motel and a little Hero, I think. I bet I can get the rest of the way through two before I go to get Sam. _

Dean pulled up at the motel ten minutes later. He grabbed a coke and settled down in front of the TV. _Two hours and no Sammy sighing. _Dean grinned as the game loaded, anticipation tingling along his spine, making his hand tremble a little as he waited. He started with a couple of the songs they'd played the night before as a warm up, then started working his way down the list. He finished the last song of the last set and sighed. _All over. _Dean got up and put the Eighties disc in the game and settled back down after glancing at the clock. _Half an hour till I pick up Sam, I can get a few in. _He was nearly bouncing with impatience as the game loaded. When it finally did he relaxed a little.

"Where the hell were you?" A very angry voice interrupted the game sometime later. Dean glanced up, surprised he hadn't heard the door open, judging by the dent in the wall, Sam must have opened it with more force than was needed.

"What are you doing here? I was going to pick you up."

"Two hours ago, Dean. You were supposed to pick me up two hours ago."

"What? No, I just started…" He stopped as he noticed the clock. _What the hell? He's right. I should have known, how many songs did I go through? _"Sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry, Dean?" Sam shouted. "I waited, I called…" Sam took a deep breath. "And you're sitting here playing Guitar Hero? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sam…" Dean said quietly, breaking in before Sam could start up again. "I…Sorry," He repeated, setting the guitar on the bed. "I'll buy you dinner at that steak house." Dean realized his hands were shaking. _I can play a little more after dinner. _Sam was frowning at him. "Ready?"

"You think dinner can…" Sam muttered sulkily.

"Food fixes everything, Sammy," Dean said, walking to the door and looking at the wall behind it. "Think housekeeping will notice that hole you put in the wall?"

Dean watched the anger drain out of Sam, his brother suddenly looked sheepish. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I called and you never answered. I…uh…" Sam shrugged and walked out. Dean pulled out his cell phone. _Okay, if I'd called him twenty times and he didn't answer, I would have panicked, too. And then I'd be pissed as hell at him. _

"Sam, I'm sorry, I didn't hear the phone," he said as he dropped into the car. "Did you find anything?"

"Not much, there was a similar 'epidemic' thirteen years ago in Oregon." Sam sighed. "Same thing. Small city, people coming down with the symptoms of encephalitis—headache, fever, photophobia—and then coma and death, the doctors never figured it out. I called Bobby, he remembered it, said dad had looked into it, thinking it was a shtriga, but he didn't find anything."

"How many people that time?"

"By the time it was over, more than thirty had died."

"So, whatever is doing this isn't done yet." Dean sighed as he pulled into the lot at the steak house. "Great." He rolled his neck, trying to loosen up the crick that was still there. "Want to play a little Guitar Hero when we get back? Take your mind off the case?"

Sam looked at him and rolled his eyes. "Dean…"

"Ah, come on, don't hold this afternoon against me, Sammy. Just a few? We could play cooperative. Number Two and Eighties have cooperative mode. It'll be like that band we formed."

"The band we formed when you were eleven?" Sam chuckled. "When you found that guitar in a dumpster?"

"Yeah." Dean smiled at his brother.

"You knew three chords, and the guitar had five strings." Sam smiled. "I remember you made me the bass out of a broom and fishing line."

"It even almost worked. Drove dad nuts," Dean said, laughing.

"Yeah, until he accidentally left it all behind at Bobby's."

"Yep. So, just think, tonight Sound Chaser plays again."

"You still remember the name?" Sam laughed as he looked over the menu.

"Sammy, you always remember the name of your first band. It's like your first girl…"

"You remember the name of your first girl?" Sam asked, his eyebrows up.

"Oh yeah, Heather. Hot. My first hot Heather, in fact." Dean reached for the glass of water and noticed his hand was shaking, he also caught Sam's look as his brother noticed the same thing.

"Maybe we should give Guitar Hero a rest tonight, Dean."

"Nah, I'm fine, I just need to remember to take a rest now and then." Dean smiled. He sighed and rubbed his head, it was starting to throb. _I need to eat, I haven't had anything since breakfast. _

"Okay, but not as long as last night."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Sam."

**Present**

_Four days and we're no closer to an answer than we were then. _Sam sighed. _At least no one else has come down with it. _Alex Jefferson had died the day before, Sam and Leo Woods were waiting for another victim to appear, because, as Woods had told Sam, "It doesn't make sense it would just stop now." Sam knew that as well. There were more than thirty victims the last time, there were more coming. They just needed to wait, it was only a matter of time. Sam sighed and picked up his beer.

"Are you done with your pizza?" Dean asked, Sam looked up at his brother

"What?"

"Are you ready to play?"

Sam looked across the table at Dean. His brother's hands were shaking and his eyes had the glassy look Sam was starting to recognize—Dean was getting anxious to play. "Okay, Dean, but maybe only a couple of hours? You played a lot of the afternoon."

"I want to get five stars on everything before I move on to hard," Dean said in the excited voice that accompanied all discussions of Guitar Hero.

"I know, you've mentioned it once or twice." Sam smiled. Dean stood and stretched. Sam noticed his brother grabbed the back of the chair to steady himself. As Dean settled on the bed, Sam took a long look at him. _Dark circles under the eyes, but he hasn't been sleeping much since he got the game. His hands start shaking about an hour after he stops playing, then stop when he plays the game again. _Dean was rubbing the back of his neck. _He's complained about sleeping wrong for the last few nights. I'm just tired, I worry more when I'm tired. It's just, I don't know, I have a feeling of impending doom. _No matter how he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Sam sank down onto his bed and picked up the game controller. Dean grinned at him, one leg bouncing as the game loaded.

They played two songs and Sam looked over at Dean as his brother chose the next one. There was a smile of pure childish delight lighting Dean's face. That smile was the reason Sam hadn't accidentally run over the game eight or ten times with the Impala. Dean so rarely got the chance to relax and enjoy himself, Sam was willing to put up with the game a little longer. _Although, if I hear 'Balls to the Wall' one more time today, I might accidentally run over that disc once or twice. _The next song started and Sam turned his attention back to the game.

"Damn," Dean said suddenly.

"What?" Sam said without taking his eyes off the screen, notes were flying at him as he tried to keep up with Dean.

"I must have allergies or something," Dean sounded annoyed. Sam glanced over at his brother while playing a long note.

"Dean!" He was off the bed and back with a towel in his hands before Dean could elaborate further. Sam held the towel over Dean's nose and used a corner to wipe the blood off Dean's face.

"I'm okay," Dean muttered from under the towel. "Dry air or something, that's all."

"How long has this been going on?" Sam asked, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped. A drop of blood trickled down, Sam pressed the towel back against Dean's face.

"A day or two. It's nothing. Remember when we were in Arizona? My nose bled all the time," Dean said, trying to push Sam's hands away.

"It didn't just start bleeding for no reason." Sam checked again. "But it looks like it's stopping."

"Good, I'll start the song over."

"Dean…"

"Two songs, then we'll stop. Promise." Dean smiled. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" He put a little whine into the word.

"Okay, fine Dean, two more songs." Sam looked over at his brother. "And I never sounded like that."

"Sammy…"

"Shut up, Dean." Sam laughed.

Dean's nose started bleeding again as they finished the second song. Sam put the game away as Dean held the towel against his nose. "Check my nose," Dean said, the words muffled by the towel. Sam walked over and checked, Dean's nose had stopped bleeding a little but…

"My god, Dean!" _Not good, not good. _"I'm going to call Leo."

"I don't need a doctor."

"Your eyes are bleeding." Sam gently turned his brother's head. "And your ears." Sam's heart was slamming against his rib cage, every nerve screaming _PANIC! _as he looked at his brother.

"Huh, they are? Think it's the headache doing that?" Dean asked as Sam wiped the blood off his brother's face. "Can you get me a couple aspirin or something?" Sam dug out the first-aid kit and fished out the Tylenol. He handed them to Dean and walked to the bathroom to get his brother a glass of water. When he got back, Dean had moved and was leaning against the back of the bed. He'd gotten under the covers. Sam could see he was shaking, the blood still trickling over his face.

"Here," Sam said, handing Dean the water. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Dean's forehead. "You're burning up, Dean."

"Yeah, I know." Dean looked at him, his eyes bleak. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I figured out who the next victim is."

_Oh god, oh please, oh no. _"You?" Sam said calmly.

"Yep."

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Jukebox Hero**

**Chapter Two**

The television was on, "Psychobelly Freakout" playing on a loop as Guitar Hero II cycled over and over. Dean was looking at his brother, Sam still had his hand on Dean's forehead, almost like he'd forgotten it was there. Dean felt something warm trickle down his cheek. _Luckily, I know it's not a tear, just a little eye blood. No worries, Sammy, just a little eye blood. _Sam took the towel from Dean and wiped the blood away, Dean could feel Sam's hands shaking.

"How long have you known?" Sam asked, his voice almost toneless.

Dean shrugged. "Not long. I didn't know for sure until…"

"Until when, Dean?" Sam said quietly.

"Until this evening," Dean said, hoping to distract his brother.

"Were you planning on mentioning it sometime?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"I wanted to finish playing first, because I knew…"

"Knew what, Dean? What exactly did you know that kept you from telling me?" Sam clasped his hands together.

"Sammy…" Dean said quietly, frowning at him. _I wanted to finish playing before you grounded me or something stupid like that. _

"Dean? What did you know?" Sam gently wiped another trickle of blood away from Dean's eyes.

"Well, I thought you might…"

"Might what?" Sam reached for his cell phone. "I think I should call Leo and let him know. He never mentioned the bleeding."

"Maybe people waited to go to the ER?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, because they wouldn't think bleeding from the eyes was a reason to go? I'll put it on speaker." _Yeah, right, no one would panic with something like that, happens all the time, right? _Sam dialed the doctor's cell. "Hey, Leo, sorry to bother you so late."

"No problem, I'm still at work. What is it, Sam?" the doctor asked, his voice distorted by the speaker..

"Any reason you didn't mention the victims bleed?" Sam said softly, Dean could hear the undercurrent of anger—or panic—in his brother's voice.

"Bleed?" Leo's voice was incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

"Bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose," Sam said, looking at Dean. _I wonder if Sam has noticed…_"And mouth." _Yep, he noticed._

"What? I didn't know… Wait, Sam, how do you know?"

"Dean." Sam said, Dean could see the muscles in Sam's jaw clenching. "Dean's bleeding, his temp is up, complaining of a headache."

"Oh my god, how?" Leo said.

"I don't know. I thought you might have an idea?" Sam said.

"Bring him in."

"I'm not going to the hospital, Sammy," Dean answered for him, he snagged the game controller with his foot and pulled it up the bed. Once it was in his hands a tingle ran up his spine. _Just a minute, as soon as Sam finishes. _Dean clicked the buttons with a shaking hand, as he ran his hands over the controller the shaking eased, but the desperation to finish the set was becoming uncontrollable.

"Not yet," Sam said. "We don't know what's happening, people are dying in the hospital, Dean stays here."

"Once the symptoms progress, Sam…"

"I know, Leo. We'll deal with that if it happens."

"I need to examine him. How long has the bleeding been going on? Never mind. We'll discuss that when I get there. You're at the Colonial Motel, right?"

"Yeah, room thirty-nine."

"On my way." Leo said.

"Thanks." Sam said, breaking the connection. He looked at Dean.

"You think he can help?" Dean asked. "Can you get another towel?"

"I don't know if he can help, Dean, but it couldn't hurt." Sam walked into the bathroom, brought out another towel, and handed it to Dean. "You know, sometimes Dean, doctors can help."

"They haven't seemed to help much with this so far, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean watched as Sam struggled to keep control, his brother's face was almost blank, but there was a wild look in his eyes that concerned Dean. Sam sat back on the bed and put his hand on Dean's forehead, it was trembling.

"Your fever's going up," he said calmly.

"I'm okay," Dean said.. _It's the calm thing, that's what freaks me out. He wasn't this way, ever, until that hunt when he was eighteen. After that, this calm thing._ "Really, I'm okay." Dean pushed Sam's hand away. "Let's rock until Woods gets here."

"I'm not really in the mood, Dean."

"Come on, please? A little cooperative? There are a few songs we don't have five stars on." Dean's leg was bouncing and his hands were tingling, he felt the warm liquid coming out of his ears, nose, eyes and mouth. "Please, Sam? Before I can't play anymore?" As soon as he said it, he wanted to pull the words back. His brother looked almost like Dean had struck him. "I mean before Woods gets here, Sammy."

Sam was frowning at him. "Okay, Dean, just till Leo gets here." Sam picked up the other controller. "You sure you want to play co-op? Afraid I'll kick your ass again if we play face-off?"

"You only won that one because I was distracted." Dean ran up and down the menu looking for a song to play. He stopped on a song.

"Oh, no, Dean, no way. Not 'Freebird', no." Sam looked at him, his eyes reflecting near panic, even though he was joking.

"Fine, 'Thunderhorse'? I'll play bass this time, since you can't seem to keep up." Dean selected the song and waited as it loaded, his hands had stopped shaking and he was relaxing as he got ready to play. The notes started flying at him. "Damn."

"Yeah, harder than it looks," Sam said, flashing him a grin.

"Too many notes, take some out and it will be perfect."

"What?"

"Amadeus?" Dean said, playing his way through a long series of notes.

"What are you talking about?"

"The movie?" Dean could see Sam shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. "The scene with Mozart and the king…" Sam was still shaking his head. "Your education has huge holes in it, Sammy."

"Because I didn't see a movie?"

"Because you haven't seen a lot of movies." The song ended. "Ha, ninety-nine percent for Dean Winchester, Bass God," Dean said, grinning at Sam. "You got what? Oooh, eighty-nine percent. _Tsk, tsk._" Dean flipped up the menu and started another song. "Maybe you should play Judy Nails or Casey Lynch. You play like a girl. You know Sam, you can't rock without a…"

"Don't even say it." Sam looked at him. "Don't. I've heard your theory since you saw that video of Vixen."

"Yeah, well they suck."

"Whatever, Dean."

"Yeah." Dean started playing, the tingle in his spine easing as they played. "One more?"

"Okay, one more, Leo should be here soon."

"I'll pick a short one." Dean flipped down the menu as fast as he could and chose a song. It started loading.

"What did you pick?"

"A short one." The song came up, Dean looked over at his brother. Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. "Well it's short compared to In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida."

"Dean, no. 'Freebird' is at least six hours longer than any other song…" Sam said with a sigh.

"Hey, pay attention, you're missing notes." Dean said, watching the colors flash past on the screen. "Sam?" He turned to his brother, ignoring the game for a moment.

"I'm playing, Dean," Sam grumbled.

"Sam, look at me."

"If you're trying to distract me…" Sam looked over at him. "You've stopped bleeding."

"I know. It stopped about halfway through the second song." Dean rubbed a hand over his head. "My hands aren't shaking either."

"Dean…" Sam stopped when someone knocked on the door. "Leo?" he called, putting the game controller down. Sam waited with his hand on the knob until the doctor answered. Sam opened the door. "Thanks for coming."

"Well, you wouldn't come to me," Leo said, frowning at Sam then turning the look on Dean. "You're playing video games?"

"You got a better idea?" Dean snapped. "Sorry, my head hurts."

"It's okay," Leo said, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting his bag on the bedside table. "How long have you had the headache?"

Dean looked at Sam before answering. "A couple of days."

"Dean?" Sam growled.

"It wasn't bad until today, Sam."

"What kind of headache is it?" the doctor asked, fastening a blood pressure cuff around Dean's arm.

"Uh, the kind that hurts."

Leo sighed. "Pressure? Stabbing pain?"

"Stabbing pressure?" Dean said, after thinking about it. "It feels like my brain is trying to come out of my eyes." He watched Sam's reaction as he said it, his brother met his eyes with a panicked look. Dean smiled. _See? I'm okay, Sammy. _Sam frowned. _Okay, maybe that doesn't work anymore. _

"I thought you said he was bleeding?" Leo said over his shoulder to Sam.

"Yeah, he was, it started with his nose, then his eyes, ears and mouth."

"Muscle weakness? Tremors? Dizziness?" Leo asked.

"Uh…" Dean started and stopped.

"Dean? Answer him, please." Sam said softly.

"You sound just like dad."

"Dean? Answer him."

"Yes, Sammy." Dean turned to the doctor. "All of the above. My eyes are a little light sensitive, too."

"Hmm," the doctor said, digging in his bag.

"Hmm?" Dean asked, watching Sam as his brother hovered. "Sammy, sit down, you're making me nervous." Sam plopped down on the bed. "What's hmm?" Dean noticed the tremor in his hand starting again. Sam must have noticed, too, he put his hand on Dean's arm.

"I'm trying to figure how far along you are," Leo said, pressing the stethoscope against Dean's chest.

"How far along…?" Dean laughed. "Am I pregnant?"

"Dean," Sam said.

"What? Oh, sorry. I meant…" Leo said, looking up at Dean. "I wondered…"

"How long I have? Yeah." The tremor in his hand was becoming more pronounced and an odd pressure had suddenly appeared at the base of his neck. Colors swam in front of his eyes as music began playing somewhere in his head, 'Freebird' up to the point where he and Sam had stopped. It would play that far and then repeat. At the very edge of the music, Dean thought he could hear a voice, nothing related to the song, something soft, compelling, something urging him to play. The song was gaining volume, spinning around him. He was on stage, a guitar in his hand. _What the hell? _The thought crept into his brain as he looked out at the audience.

"DEAN!" Sam's voice had the crescendo of complete panic in it. Something was fastened tightly around his upper arm, as it slowly tightened Dean realized it was his brother's hand. "Dean!"

"I'm okay," Dean mumbled.

"Dean? Did you say something?" Sam's voice was urgent.

Dean opened his eyes, wondering when he closed them, and looked at Sam. His brother was paper-white. "I'm okay."

"No you're not, you passed out." Sam glared at him.

"Well, this answers the question," Leo said, pumping up the blood pressure cuff again.

"What question?" Sam asked, his voice carefully controlled. _Uh oh, Sammy might be about ready to blow. He's got that look._

"About how far along I am?" Dean offered.

"Yes," the doctor said. "In the other cases, if you remember from the files, the episodes of unconsciousness start about twenty-four hours after the onset of acute symptoms. They continue, getting longer in duration until…"

"Until I don't wake up? Right, I remember reading that." Dean looked at Sam. His brother still had the death grip on his upper arm. "Sammy?"

"Twenty-four hours, Dean?" Sam whispered. "Twenty-four?" Dean tried for a grin, when that didn't seem to stop Sam's teeth grinding together he tried the nonchalant shrug. _Okay, when all else fails, try for funny. _"Don't you dare," Sam said so quietly Dean was sure Leo missed the soft words. "Don't you dare make this a joke."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean turned to Leo. "Well, so how long do I have?"

"Before the coma?" Leo shook his head. "I'm not sure, maybe as much as thirty-six hours."

"But you don't think so?" Sam asked.

"No."

"How long?" Sam's voice was eerily calm. Dean noticed his brother's hands were shaking, the one around Dean's arm trembling even as the grip tightened.

"My best guess? Twelve to eighteen hours."

"Sam?" His brother ignored him. "Sam?" Nothing. "Sammy?" Still no response, Sam's eyes were focused on the doctor. "SAM!" His brother jumped and turned his attention to Dean. "Think you could let go of my arm?"

"What?" Sam looked at him for a moment longer, then the pressure in Dean's arm disappeared. "Sorry." Dean looked over at the finger marks and raised his eyebrows. "Sorry," Sam repeated.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean said. "So what's the plan?" he asked the doctor, but kept his focus on Sam. Dean's hands were shaking again, Sam saw it, too. He frowned and laid his hand over Dean's.

"I'd like you…" Leo said, looking at Dean.

"Before you finish? No, not going in."

"Dean…" Leo began.

"I know I'll need to eventually, Sam can't take care of me once I'm in a coma, but I want to wait as long as possible." Sam was shaking his head. _I need to play, Sam, please. I have to. _"No, Sam."

"Yes, Dean."

"No. No way, nope."

"Yes."

"Unless you're prepared to carry me out of here, Sam, I'm staying for awhile." The shaking in his hands was beginning to move through his whole body, he was trembling like he was cold. Dean clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He slid his hand out from under Sam's and put it on top the game controller. "We can play a little more before I go, how's that, just till everything has five stars, Sammy."

"Dean…"

"Huh," Leo said reflectively.

"What?" Dean turned to the doctor.

"Harrison and Jefferson both, they asked for their video games before they fell into the coma."

"Guitar Hero?" Dean asked, looking at Sam.

Leo shook his head. "No, Jefferson was, I think Halo and Harrison wanted his Grand Theft Auto."

"But they were asking for video games?" Sam said.

"Yeah, and when we told them they couldn't have them in the room, Harrison was a little violent, not bad. Jefferson just begged."

"Hmm," Sam said, getting up, walking to the table and opening his laptop.

"What?" Dean asked his brother.

"Huh?" Sam looked up from the computer.

"I can hear the wheels spinning from here, Sammy, what?" Dean casually picked up the controller and let his hands drift over it. The tingle in his spine was at the point of pain. _If I start playing, will someone yell at me? _Something warm trickled down his cheek.

"Your eyes are bleeding," Leo said, gently grabbing his chin and turning his face to the light. "Your nose, too."

"Play, Dean," Sam said, without looking up.

"What?" Leo turned to Sam.

"When we started playing the game before—he stopped bleeding, the tremors in his hands and legs stopped and I think the pain was reduced."

"How did you know about the pain?" Dean demanded. Sam looked up at him with the "who do you think you're dealing with, Dean?" look, then turned back to the computer. Dean tried to ignore the odd pressure starting in his head, the room was swimming around him.

"What does the game have to do with that?" Leo stood and walked to look over Sam's shoulder.

"I'm not sure, but it stopped." Sam was focused on the computer. Dean's vision was beginning to get black at the edges, words not making as much sense as they had moments before.

"He's blacking out," Leo said, moving back towards the bed.

Sam looked up. "Dean? Play the game." When he didn't comply immediately, Sam frowned. "Play the damn game."

"Okay, okay, if you're going to yell at me." Dean's hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the guitar. He exited out of cooperative play as quickly as he could, ignoring the liquid running down his face and neck, the need to play pushing everything else aside. He picked the first song, as it loaded the tingle in his spine blossomed to pain. Dean groaned quietly. _But of course, Sam heard it. _The song started, Dean played his way through "Shout at the Devil" and then moved to the second song. The pain backed off, his hands stopped shaking, the blood running across his face and down his neck slowed. By the end of the third song, the bleeding had stopped and Dean was coherent enough to listen to Sam and Leo's conversation.

"Did anyone else ask for video games?" Sam said.

Leo frowned. "Yes, I know the child did, and one of the women, I know for sure."

"Is there anyway to find out if anyone else did?"

"I'll ask the nursing staff in the morning."

"Good," Sam replied absently.

"Sam?" Dean said, flipping through the menu for another song. "What?"

"I'm not sure, keep playing."

"What are you looking for? Those aren't disease diagnostics, those look like…" Leo said, leaning forward and squinting at the computer. "What the hell is that? Mythology of some kind?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly.

"Okay, what's going on? You aren't with the CDC, are you?" Leo demanded angrily.

"Yeah, not so much," Dean said, playing a long note on "Heart-Shaped Box".

"Then who?"

"We're more like Scully and Mulder. He's Scully," Dean said, pointing at Sam with the guitar.

"Bite me, Dean."

"So, you think this isn't a disease?" Leo sank into a chair.

"I'm not sure about that," Sam said. "I think it was caused by something other than a germ or virus"

"But what?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not sure."

"Give him a minute," Dean said. "Want to play a little face off?" Dean asked the doctor. "Don't worry, it hasn't affected him at all. I've been watching him, looking for symptoms since we got here."

"I don't play video games, that whole hand-eye thing confuses me."

"Good thing you aren't a surgeon." Dean turned back to the game. After the next song, the pain was gone, the pressure against his eyes diminished to a dull ache. He put the controller down. Sam was frowning at the laptop, stabbing at the keys with more violence than usual. _Oh, that is so not good. When Sam is mean to the computer, the Horsemen are getting ready to ride or something like that. _"Sam?" His brother looked up, eyes panicked, bleak, tears pooled at the edges. "What?" Dean asked.

"I think…" Sam swallowed.

"Sammy? You figured out about the game, all I need to do is play now and then and everything gets better, right?" Dean said. Sam looked at him, a tear breaking loose. "Okay, Sam, what?'

"You have to play, Dean, but…"

"But what?"

"If I'm right…"

"Sam? I'm going to kill you in a minute."

"I think if you keep playing, you won't fall into the coma."

"Okay, well that's good." Dean grinned, the smile fell off his face when he met his brother's eyes.

"No coma, but…" Sam said bleakly.

"But, Sam? But what?"

"You die anyway."

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Jukebox Hero**

**Chapter Three**

The TV was playing an endless loop of "Message in a Bottle." Dean was looking at his brother. Sam's eyes were bright and red-rimmed. Dean picked up the remote and muted the TV, somehow he had the idea turning the game all the way off was a bad idea. "What do you mean? Sam? What's going on?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," Sam said quietly, turning back to the computer.

"But? You must be sure of something, Sam." Dean stood up, putting a hand against the wall until the room stopped spinning. The walls looked like they were breathing. "That's cool."

"What?" Sam asked, looking up from the computer.

"The walls are breathing."

"Hallucinations?" Leo said. "No one has reported hallucinations. Interesting, do you mind if I…?"

"I don't think that has anything to do with the illness, Leo," Sam said. "When I stop playing the walls look like they're moving. Everything does. I think it has something to do with playing the game."

"Oh," Leo said.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Dean laughed as he came over to the table. He peered over his brother's shoulder at the computer screen. "What is it?" Dean grabbed the back of Sam's chair as the room spun again.

"Dean!" Sam stood and grabbed his arm before he could fall. "Sit down, please." Sam steered him into a chair. "Just stay."

"Fine."

"Fine," Sam snapped back as he dropped into his chair. "I think it's a soul thief."

"A what?" Leo asked, complete disbelief on his face. "You think it's a what?"

"Shut up," Dean growled at the doctor. "A soul thief?"

"Yeah." Sam turned to the laptop, scrolling through information with a frown of concentration.

Dean waited, watching as his brother poked at the computer, the frown deepening with each poke. "Uh, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam looked up.

"Soul thief, Sam? Pretend I don't know what you're talking about and can't see the computer."

"Oh, sorry." Sam looked sheepish. Dean grinned at him. _Sammy does get lost in research sometimes. _"It's a supernatural being, they used to refer to them as demons…"

"But it's not?" Dean asked.

"Demons?" Leo scoffed.

"Let Sammy talk." Dean frowned at the doctor.

"No. It's a creature that…"

"Lives off of human energies? The soul?" Leo said sarcastically.

"If you can't shut up, you're going to have to leave," Dean snapped. "This is what we do. Go on, Scully."

"Bite me, Dean." Sam smiled. "The concept of the soul thief was common in the Middle Ages. Knights would end up in tournaments to save their soul. They thought they were fighting the devil, but it was a soul thief. The thief collects souls. There is some debate about why. Feeding off the life force is the obvious answer, but I've read one or two theories that it is the challenge it lives for and when it is not defeated, it collects the soul and moves on to look for a new challenge."

"So, the soul is like a trophy?" Dean asked, watching his brother's face.

"According to one theory."

"Or it's feeding on the soul?"

"That's the general consensus," Sam said quietly.

"Which do you think it is?" Dean noticed a tremor starting in his hand. He moved his hands off the table and sat on them. _Maybe Sam won't notice. _

"I don't know." Sam turned back to the computer.

"This is insane." Leo walked away from them, and stood staring out the window at the parking lot.

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears," Dean snapped. "Nope, didn't think so." His left leg started bouncing, the tremors in his hands were running up his arms. "Why do the symptoms get better when I play?"

"The thief addicts you to the challenge, so you have to go back to it. If you don't go back to the challenge, it can take you more quickly."

"Did I kill them?" Leo turned back towards them.

"They would have died anyway, Leo," Sam said gently. "And the coma might have been kinder." Sam looked up at Dean, tears brimming in his eyes.

Dean took a deep breath and pushed himself out of the chair, resting his hand on the table to steady himself for a moment. He walked around to look at the computer screen, Sam reached to close it, but Dean stopped it with a shaking hand. "Let me look, Sam."

"Dean…"

"Sammy," he replied in the same tone. He leaned against the table and looked at the computer, trying to still the tremors running up his spine. The bright screen brought tears to his eyes. _I have to play again, and soon. _Dean looked at the laptop, there was a picture of a crudely drawn devil figure standing, triumphant, on top a bleeding and broken knight's body. Dean scrolled down, another bleeding body, and another. "They're all bleeding from the eyes and ears, did you notice that?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "One writer thought that was symbolic for the loss of the soul."

"They were wrong," Leo said. He looked from Sam to Dean. "Should I feel better about this, or worse?" He dropped into a chair with a sigh and put his head in his hands. "What do I do?"

"Let us try and figure this out," Dean said, looking at the doctor.

"And let us know if a new case is bought in," Sam added.

"If they want a video game, do I give it to them?" Leo asked Sam.

"Yeah, it could prolong their life by as much as forty-eight hours." Sam met Dean's eyes. "We might have an answer by then." Dean could see desperation in his brother's eyes, even though Sam's voice was calm and steady. _It's that calm thing again. Freaky. _

"Okay." Leo picked up his bag. "I'm going to go home, I've been on for eighteen hours. If you need me, call. I only live about five minutes from here."

"Thanks, Leo." Sam stood and walked the doctor to the door. "I'll call if I find anything." The doctor walked to his car. Sam stood in the door, his back to Dean.

"Sam?" When there was no response from his brother, Dean walked to the door and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sammy?"

"Your hand's shaking," Sam said without turning around. "You need to play."

"In a minute." Dean tightened his hand on Sam's shoulder—offering comfort and hanging on so his legs wouldn't go out from under him. "What?" Sam shook his head, still looking out the door. _Okay, that's enough. _Dean tugged on Sam's shoulder until his brother was facing him. "Sammy?"

"I don't know what to do, Dean."

"You'll figure it out, Sam…"

"There is always something there, Dean. There's nothing this time."

Dean blinked. "You lost me."

"There's always something in the lore on how to kill it. The sources don't even agree on what the thief wants." Sam sighed.

"You'll find it, Sam." Dean gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze. "I know you…" The room was spinning, he grabbed tightly onto Sam's shoulder as dark shadows danced at the edges of his vision. He felt a warm trickle over his lips and cheek.

"Dean!" Sam pulled Dean's arm over his shoulders and half carried him to the bed.

"I'm okay, Sammy."

"You're bleeding again." Sam dropped him onto the bed. "Play. I'll get a towel."

Dean reached for the controller, aware of the pain in his spine, the pain tingling along his fingers. _Almost waited too long. _He hit the mute button, "Message in a Bottle" blasted into the room. Dean quickly selected the song. _I just played it, but don't have a hundred percent yet. _

For some reason the pain in his back spiked as the song loaded. _I waited to long. _"Sammy!" The song was starting, but his focus was taken up by the blinding fire running up and down his spine. Fear began tingling along his hands as the pain increased. The controller slipped from his hands. "Sam!" The room dimmed as the song played, the guitar part quiet as the notes slid by. The crowd was booing when Dean felt weight on the bed. He was propped up against Sam, the controller placed back in his hands. "Can't…" He groaned. Sam's hands guided his to the buttons and he felt his fingers depressing them. The booing stopped.

"Star power, Dean," Sam said, tilting the guitar. A surge of energy pulsed through Dean, pushing the pain away, back down his spine, till it was just a small tingle. "Dean?"

"I got it." Dean opened his eyes, Sam pulled his hands away and Dean finished the song. "Thanks." Sam shifted from behind him, moving pillows so Dean was propped in a sitting position.

"Yeah." Sam sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the blood off of Dean's face. "Keep playing, you're still bleeding."

"Right." Dean chose the next song and started, the shaking in his hands slowly easing. He glanced at his brother before the guitar solo started. Sam was staring at a spot over Dean's head. _I doubt he's looking at the art. _"A little co-op, Sammy?" Dean nudged his brother with his knee. "Sammy?"

"Huh?"

"Want to play? Just for a bit?" Dean could hear a little pleading note in his voice. He needed to play. _Hell, I still want to play, it's not just the addiction. _But playing alone, for the moment, had lost its charm.

Sam must have heard something in the question, he looked at Dean for a moment, then walked around the bed and sat down beside him. "Okay, a few songs. But we're playing face-off." Sam shifted so his shoulder was in contact with Dean's.

"Bring it on, Sammy." Dean grinned. "Prepare to lose, Scully."

"Bite me."

**XXX**

The room was finally quiet. The TV was still on, the game running on a loop, but Sam had turned the sound off. Dean was convinced turning the game off was a bad idea, and Sam agreed with his brother. He glanced at the clock. _Still a couple of hours. _He was waiting to call Alan Sgambellone, an historian and author of a book on the origins of the soul thief legends in Europe. The man had very carefully talked around the issues in such a way that Sam was sure that the professor believed the legends. He scrolled through another page of information—for the last half hour he'd been getting nowhere fast.

A groan from the bed pulled Sam's attention away from the computer. "Dean?" Sam stood and quickly walked to the bed. "Dean?" He sat on the edge of the bed and shook his brother's shoulder. Dean groaned again, but didn't wake. Sam felt the stirrings of panic in his chest. He'd let Dean sleep after an hour long session of Guitar Hero. The dark circles under his brother's eyes concerned him. _Dean's losing energy fast. It's taking him faster than the others. Playing should help a little, but still, the unconsciousness…_ It was getting harder and harder to wake Dean so he could play. He was becoming more and more disoriented as well, and the tremors in his muscles started within ten minutes of Dean stopping play—even when he was asleep. If Sam let him sleep for thirty minutes or more, the bleeding started. "Dean," Sam said, shaking him again. When Dean didn't wake, Sam took a deep breath and slapped his brother. "Dean!"

"Ow," Dean said without opening his eyes.

"Dean, you need to play, wake up."

"Don' wanna play, wanna sleep," Dean mumbled.

"Wake up!" Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder and shook him, hard. "Now!" He grabbed the controller and put it in Dean's hands.

"Thanks," Dean said hazily, opening his eyes and blinking at Sam. "Can you turn on the sound?" Sam turned the volume up, as Dean struggled to sit up. Sam gently lifted Dean and slid pillows behind his back so he could sit while he played. "Thanks, Sammy." Dean chose the next song and started playing. "Is it morning?" he asked as he finished the song and started another.

"Yeah, early."

"Think the espresso stand is open?" Dean shifted, sitting up straighter.

"Yeah, they opened at five."

"How many have you had already?" Dean looked at him, frowning. "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little." Sam shrugged. "I'll go get coffee. Will you be okay?"

"Sure," Dean said, smiling. "By the time you get back, I'll be fine." Dean turned back to the game. "Get me one of those chocolate-chocolate chip muffins, too."

"Right." Sam grabbed some cash and walked down to the stand. The girl smiled at him and made a joke about cutting him off after five lattes. Sam felt a blush rising up his neck. _How does Dean do it? I always feel about thirteen when someone flirts with me. I'm glad Dean isn't here to see this. _ He took the coffees from her, carefully balancing muffins on top the lids. Sam could hear music as he approached the room. He pushed open the door and glanced at the TV. "When did you start playing the Grim Reaper?" His brother tended to play the punk rock character Johnny Napalm.

"I didn't. He just appeared."

"Are you sure?" Sam set the coffee down.

"I just hit play, remember? I didn't exit out to pick a new character or anything, he just appeared." The song ended and Dean put the controller and reached for the coffee. "Good coffee."

"Yeah. I found someone I think might be able to help." Sam sat the edge of the bed and put his hand on Dean's forehead. _My god. _His brother met his eyes with a small smile_. _"He's a professor in Medieval history, wrote a book on the subject. I'm going to call him as soon as I can."

"When?" Dean took another sip of the coffee. Sam noticed the cup trembling. Dean caught his look. "It's happening faster all the time."

"I know. You start to bleed, even when you're asleep, too."

"I'll have to be playing without a break soon." Dean put the cup down and picked the controller up. "One song, so I can finish my coffee." He smiled at Sam. "Then a little face-off? Maybe switch to number one for awhile? Just till you need to call? Maybe I can get a shower while you call."

Sam looked at Dean, he could see fear in his brother's eyes, hear it under the joking tones. "Sure."

An hour later, Sam set his controller down. He helped Dean into the bathroom and then picked up the phone to call the professor. He had to fight his way through a student and the department secretary before he was finally connected to the historian's phone.

"And the next time you decide to put your name on someone else's work, give me a little credit and pick an author I haven't read," a gruff bass voice growled as the call was connected. Sam smiled, for some reason the voice reminded him of Bobby. "Sorry about that, idiot students, Dr. Sgambellone." Sam sighed in relief, he'd guessed on the pronunciation of the professor's name, going with Italian "scam bell own," it had been the right choice. "Hello?" the professor said.

"Uh, hello," Sam answered. A thump followed by a loud stream of cursing issued from the bathroom, ending with "I'm okay." Sam listened for a moment longer, waiting till the water came on. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Sam said, pulling his focus back to the phone. _You're getting distracted. _ "I read your book on the soul thief…"

"The whole thing?" The question was followed by a bark of laughter.

"Well, not all of it," Sam admitted sheepishly.

"Don't feel bad, I haven't read all of it since I sent it off to my editor." Another laugh. "I have no idea what I was thinking. Fourteen-hundred pages? I think I had delusions of Tolkien."

Sam couldn't help chuckling a little at the good-natured tone. "I have a few questions."

"Sure, shoot."

_Okay, now comes the hard part. _"Do you believe in the concept of the soul thief?"

"Ah…" There was a long pause. "You mean as more than a representation of the battle of humanity to overcome evil?"

"Yes."

"Why?" The professor's tone was curious, not belligerent.

"Do you think the knights could have been battling a real entity?"

"Again, why? What's your name?"

"Sam."

"Okay, Sam, why?"

"I, in my research, I was looking at the soul thief and I…" Sam paused. _This is always the hard part, getting information without them thinking I'm insane. _

"Your questions depend on my belief, don't they? At least how you phrase them, right?"

"Uh…"

"I'm an old historian, Sam. I've read primary source documents that would make Stephen King's hair stand on end. Yeah, I believe, and not only in the soul thief."

Sam puffed out a sigh of relief. "That makes it easier."

"What is it?" The man's tone was kindly.

"Professor Sgam…"

"Alan," he said, cutting him off.

"Alan. I think I might be dealing with a soul thief. The symptoms match the ones you listed. There have been thirteen deaths so far."

"Tell me," Alan said. Sam told the professor what he knew, and what he guessed. The man asked a few questions as Sam spoke, but mostly let him talk. When Sam finished, there was a long pause on the phone. "I think you're right. It's using the video games the way it used to use tournaments in the Middle Ages and gunfights in the Old West."

"Can you help?" Sam asked, listening to another thump in the bathroom.

"I'll tell you what I know." Alan paused. "There are a few facts I left out of the book. Scholarly work, didn't want to confuse my colleagues with too much truth." He chuckled. "God forbid they have to deal with truth." Another chuckle. "Okay. A lot of this is based on the writings of a knight who supposedly defeated one in 1214."

"Okay."

"He'd become addicted to the tournament, couldn't stop. When he started bleeding from his eyes, many people thought he was possessed. He did, too. After he collapsed because he waited too long to fight, he had what he called a vision. He was fighting a tournament in front of a crowd of angels and demons, before he could finish the joust, his partner managed to wake him. They spoke about it, and his friend—who was in minor orders—suggested that they needed to fight it in 'both realms' as he put it."

"Both realms?" Sam asked, confused.

"Oh, sorry. You remember how Sir Dennis believed he was fighting the devil at the tournaments? It's in chapter fifteen?"

"I remember. The knight with the black armor and horns on his head."

"Good! They figured out that to defeat it, they would have to fight in both realms—the physical and the spiritual. They planned to let Sir Dennis fall asleep so he could battle before the angels and his friend would battle the physical manifestation of the thief in the real world."

"And they won?"

"Must have, Sir Dennis waxed eloquent about it for more pages than I did," Alan said with a laugh. "From my research, I think they got lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"A soul thief very rarely only has one soul on the hook, as it were. It usually has several traps out. The reason Sir Dennis could defeat it was because he was the only one at that time. If there had been multiple souls, you would have had them all battling in both realms at the same time."

"Huh." Sam said reflectively. _Is Dean the only one? I need to call Leo and see if there are any more cases. If not, what do we do?_

"Sam?"

"Oh, sorry. Thank you so much, Alan, you've been a lot of help."

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"If it is a soul thief—when you get done there, would you be willing to send me your notes? I'm writing another book, one on the Medieval mind in modern American thinking and mythology…"

"Sure."

"Thanks, and if you need anything else, call. I'll help as much as I can."

"Did they mention the weapon they used on its physical body?"

"Silver knife. Why?"

"Thought it might be a good idea to know."

"You aren't thinking of fighting this thing are you?" Alan's tone was a little panicked.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"My brother is on the hook."

"Oh my god!" There was a pause, then a sigh. "Be careful. You could add the details of your battle to those notes…"

"I will, thank you again."

"Be careful."

Sam flipped the phone closed. _Who is it? How do I find him? _Another thump from the bathroom caught his attention. Something about the thump had him up and moving across the room. "Dean?" he asked, pausing outside the door.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Sure." Dean was quiet for a moment. Sam thought he heard a muffled "shit" from the other side of the door. "Uh, Sam?"

"What, Dean?"

"I can't get up."

Sam opened the door. Dean was lying on the floor, trembling, his teeth chattering together audibly. Sam bent down and picked his brother up, half carrying him to the bed. Without a word, Sam wiped the blood off Dean's face and handed him the controller. Dean picked a song and started playing. Sam noticed his brother had moved his leg just enough so it was in contact with him.

"Thanks," Dean said as the song ended. He started another. "I might be close to the playing all the time time."

"Time time?" Sam smiled. "I talked with the professor."

"Yeah?" Dean glanced at him. "What?"

"What what?"

"You're figuring something out." Dean sighed as his did a long run of notes. "Nailed 'em. So, what?" Sam told Dean about his discussion with the professor. "Huh," Dean said, when Sam had finished.

"What?"

"So in order to defeat it, we have to fight it in the physical world and the, uh, spiritual world?"

"That's what Sir Dennis said."

"He's the expert. Okay. You think I'm the only one right now?"

"I was about to call Leo and see if there are any new cases."

"If not we need to act fast. Call him." Dean sighed. "I'm okay, Sam, stop frowning. The pain's going away a little."

Sam picked up his phone and dialed the doctor. "Any new cases?" he asked when Leo answered.

"Nothing new so far. How's Dean? I was just on my way to you."

"Dean's still okay."

"Good. I'm bringing some fancy stuff with me this time, I want to get as much information as I can, since Dean is unwilling to come in."

"Thanks, Leo. See you in a few minutes."

"He's on his way?" Dean said, putting his controller down. "Good. What's our plan?"

"We need to find the thief, Dean." As Sam sat back on the bed, he noticed Dean's hands were already shaking. _Oh, god, Dean, already? We don't have much time, do we? _ "Can it be that obvious?" he said quietly, not really talking to Dean. "The shopkeeper where we got it?"

"Stop that."

"Stop what, Dean?"

"Nothing." Dean smiled and picked up the guitar, running his fingers over it. "It's not that obvious."

"Seems pretty obvious."

"Only if you're looking for a soul thief, and put two and two together. Most people don't have Scully on their side. And really, how many people would be looking?" Dean said, starting another song. "Sorry, couldn't wait. How do we kill it?"

"Dean…"

"It has to be both of us, right?" Dean looked up. "Sam?"

"Yeah, it's just…" _You have to be in a coma. If you don't win, even if I kill it, you still die. _Sam ran his hands through his hair, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying to ease the ache in his chest. "Dean…" he said, talking to his hands.

"I know, Sammy," Dean said, putting his hand on Sam's knee. "I don't want you facing him alone."

"That's not it," Sam said, fighting the despair that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Sam…" Dean was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"It's Leo," the doctor shouted.

"Hang on," Sam walked to the door and opened it. "Hi."

"Grab that," Leo said, pointing at a large black bag. "Be careful. It cost more than my education." Sam picked it up and carried it to the bed. Leo unzipped it and pulled out leads. "I'm going to hook you up," he said to Dean.

"Wait." Dean held up his hand. "Sammy? He can monitor me while it's happening." Dean met his eyes with a pleading look. Sam knew the look too well. Dean's "it sucks but what other choice do we have?" look.

"While what's happening?" Leo demanded.

"You're right, Dean," Sam said at the same time. He dropped onto the other side of the bed. "How do we do it?"

"Induce a coma?" Dean asked, trying to ignore the doctor as he pasted things onto his chest, arms and legs.

"How?" Sam said, trying to go with his brother's "getting on with business attitude."

"Hello? Think the doctor might want to be included?" Leo said, looking from one to the other.

"Sorry, Sam figured it out. We have to fight the soul thief. I have to be out to do my part. Any ideas?"

"Assuming it wasn't against the Hippocratic Oath, I still don't have anything strong enough with me." Leo paused, frowning. "No, I wouldn't risk that, it might work, but no. Your eyes are bleeding."

"We need to do this, Sam, before it finds someone else." Dean looked at him, then panic blossomed in Dean's eyes.

"What?" Sam asked quietly.

"Turn the game off." Dean looked at him. "That'll work."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. _No, no, no. _

"Yeah, pretty damn sure. Play one more with me, okay? Stick number two in there, but don't take too long, I need to play," Dean said anxiously. Sam got up and put the game into the console. Dean was frantically speeding through the menu while Sam walked back to the bed. "Co-op this time." Dean scrolled through the menu and chose a song, his leg bouncing as it loaded.

"Kansas?" Sam said, looking at Dean. "You picked Kansas?"

"Shut up. I like this song." Dean sighed as the game came up and "Carry On Wayward Son" started. Dean was humming along as he played, on the second chorus, he started singing. Sam joined in.

When the song ended, Dean exited back to the menu, so the song was still looping. He looked at Sam. "Let's get this over with," Dean said quietly, handing Sam the controller.

"Dean…" Sam felt a tear track down his face.

"It's okay, Sam." Dean looked at the doctor. "If my heart stops? See if you can get it started again, okay?"

"Yeah," Leo said.

Sam carried the controllers to the TV and put them carefully in front of the screen. His hands were shaking as he reached for the game console. He turned back to Dean, his brother was watching him, his hand clenched. Dean met his eyes and nodded. "Do it, Sammy."

"One, two." Sam paused, his heart slamming against his chest. _Am I about to kill Dean? _"Three." He turned off the console and hit the power button on the TV.

"Sam!" Leo shouted.

Sam turned back in time to see Dean throw his head back in agony. He ran to the bed and slipped behind his brother, so Dean wouldn't hit his head against the headboard. "Dean?"

"S'okay," Dean said through clenched teeth. "Sammy?" The blood was pouring from his eyes and nose, covering his face. Sam could feel wetness against his shirt as Dean's ears started bleeding. "Sammy?" Dean grabbed his hand.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Be careful."

"I will, you too." _Oh god. _

"You…kick…his…ass…" Dean gasped out, his muscles tensing.

"You too, Dean."

"I will." Dean's hand tightened on his as his body shook with a massive spasm. "Sam." Dean said, then abruptly relaxed, his eyes were still opened, focused on Sam, but he could see his brother sliding away.

"You better win," Sam said quietly as tightening his arms around his brother.

"You, too, Sammy. I…Sam…I…" Dean's eyes closed.

"Yeah, Dean, me too," he said, resting his cheek on the top of Dean's head for a moment. _Oh god, Dean, what have we done?_

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Quoted lyrics are from Spinal Tap._

**Jukebox Hero**

**Chapter Four**

"Carry On Wayward Son" wound to a close, Dean singing with his brother through the final verses and chorus. When it was finished, Dean exited out of the song and back to the menu, letting the song play on a loop. He nudged his brother with his shoulder and handed Sam the game controller, his heart pounding, hands shaking. "Let's get this over with," he said. Sam had tears leaking out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

"Dean…" Sam said, his voice choked.

"It's okay, Sam," he said, knowing it was a lie. He glanced over at Leo. "If my heart stops? See if you can get it started again, okay?"

"Yeah," the doctor said, giving him a funny look.

Dean watched as Sam carried the controllers to the TV and put them carefully in front of the screen. He could see Sam's hands shaking as he reached for the game console. Pain was already creeping through Dean's body, the volume of the music increasing, from somewhere he thought he could hear laughter and applause. For a moment, a scene flashed before his eyes, a stage, dark walls around him, the audience full. Dean clenched his hand, forcing it away for a moment longer. _But not much longer. Is this really a good idea? _Sam turned back to face him, he met his brother's eyes and nodded. "Do it, Sammy."

"One," Sam said, his hand hovering over the console. _Oh, god. _"Two." _Oh, god. Oh, god. _"Three." Sam turned the console and the TV off. Pain shot through Dean's body as reality quivered at the edges. A spasm ran through his body, taking coherent thought away for a moment. Dean felt the blood start dripping from his nose as Leo shouted for Sam. The bed dipped as his brother sat down and slipped behind him.

"Dean?" Sam asked. Dean could feel his brother's hands shaking.

"S'okay," Dean said through clenched teeth. "Sammy?" Dean could feel blood running over his face, possibly mixed with tears. "Sammy?" he said, reaching out, Sam grabbed his hand.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Be careful."

"I will," Sam said quietly. "You, too."

"You…kick…his…ass…" Dean gasped out, his muscles tensing. _You'll kick his ass, Sammy._

"You too, Dean."

"I will." Dean tightened his hand on Sam's as another massive spasm ran through his body. _This might not have been a good idea._ "Sam," Dean said, his body suddenly relaxed, as if his ability to control his own muscles was gone. He managed to keep his eyes open, focused on his brother.

"You better win," Sam said quietly, tightening his arms around Dean.

_I'm only letting you get away with the hug 'cause I might be dying. Yeah, right. Who do you think you're fooling, genius?_ "You, too, Sammy. I…Sam…I…" Dean's eyes closed against his will. He tried to get everything into a few last words.

"Yeah, Dean, me too," Sam said. Dean thought he felt something against his head, then there was dark, empty silence.

It didn't last for long.

The dark began to fall away, to take solid form around him. Huge walls rose above his head, he could hear something, a rumbling of voices, thousands of voices, blended into a single white noise. The dark faded a little more, he looked around.

_You have got to be kidding me. _

He was standing in the middle of a stage, amps towering over his head, musical instruments on stands, the drum set at the back of the stage. _You have got to be freaking kidding me. _He'd half expected the stage, he'd seen in when he'd blacked out before. It was the setting that was the problem. _Am I really at…? _Suddenly, music began playing, a voice singing lyrics that bounced around the giant stones.

"_Stonehenge! Where the demons dwell  
Where the banshees live and they do live well  
Stonehenge! Where a man's a man  
And the children dance to the Pipes of Pan_

_"Stonehenge! 'Tis a magic place  
Where the moon doth rise with a dragon's face  
Stonehenge! Where the virgins lie  
And the prayers of devils fill the midnight sky"_

Dean sighed. _Just freaking great. _He turned to the audience, a mixture of applause and boos greeted him. The lights were swinging over the audience. Dean could see beings bathed in bright golden light sitting with what he was sure were demons—horrific beings of shifting darkness.

He walked over to the guitars and picked up the '59 Les Paul. _Holy shit, looks just like Jimmy Page's guitar. Dean Winchester, Guitar God. _He strummed it. His fingers slid over the frets and strings like he'd been playing his whole life. Holding his breath he played the opening sequence of "Stairway to Heaven," grinning as his fingers seemed to know what was needed and expected of him. _Okay, I take it back, this is freaking cool. _He slipped the strap over his shoulder and turned to the audience.

The boos and cheers increased, Dean glanced to his right. Someone had appeared on the stage, looking remarkably like the Grim Reaper from Guitar Hero. Dean walked across the stage, nodding at the vocalist who had suddenly appeared, then turned back.

"You're the vocalist?" he asked the shimmering being with bright white wings. "An angel?"

"I'm not that kind of angel," the man said with a smile.

"Yeah, John Travolta beat you to that line." Dean chuckled. "What are you really?" The angel smiled at him. "Silent type, okay, I hope you can sing." Dean headed over to the Reaper.

"Dean," it said as he approached.

"So, you're the soul thief?" Dean asked.

"Yes, that's one way to put it."

"And you play Guitar Hero?" Dean could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I play whatever my challenger chooses. If you would rather play something else…" Reality waivered. _Yeah, if this is reality. _He was on a spaceship, alarms blaring, then at a race course, the car engines idling with a powerful rumble. The scene shifted again, this time it was a tournament, knights on horses, women in high pointed hats. Another scene shift and it was the Old West, the clock tower clanging high noon. Stonehenge appeared around him again. "Your choice," the thief said.

"We'll stick with music," Dean said. "Ready?" The Reaper nodded and Dean walked back to the other side of the stage.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight," the angel said. Cheers erupted from the golden beings, the dark forms growled. Dean saw something that looked like a beer bottle fly out of the audience and shattered against the stage. _Oh, yeah, fun crowd. _"We'd like to welcome you to tonight's entertainment."

"Play 'Stonehenge'," someone shouted from the second row. The demons all laughed. Dean couldn't help the grin that formed on his face. _Yep, fun crowd. This getting better and better. _

"I'd like to introduce our two guitarists. On my right is Grim." Applause exploded from the demons. Dean thought he could see one or two of the angels clapping as well.

"Thank you!" Grim said, playing a quick riff.

"He's here to battle for the life of our other guitarist, on my left, Dean Winchester." Boos drowned out the small smattering of applause.

"Yeah, well, bite me," Dean said, trying the opening rift from "Cowboys from Hell."

"Sure, honey, after the show!" someone shouted from the first row. Dean squinted into the audience. A shapely golden being was waving at him.

"Oh, hell, yeah, backstage all-access pass for you, darlin'," Dean said with a smile. She waved again.

"Challenger chooses the first song," the vocalist said. Dean looked over at him, wondering how he'd choose a song, when a list shimmered into existence before him. He ran his pick over the strings and the menu scrolled down. _Okay, weird, but like Guitar Hero. _He chose "Thunderhorse". The audience applauded. Dean was wondering just how he'd manage the song when colored notes began moving towards him. He let his fingers move over the strings, knowing which color corresponded with which string without even thinking about it. He heard the soul thief miss a note with a resounding clang, the audience jeered and Dean laughed, his laughter turning to a grimace when he missed a note. The clang ran up and down his spine with a flash of pain. He clenched his teeth and managed to stay upright.

The audience started cheering as the last note flashed over Dean's head. A jolt of energy ran through him, he knew he'd won the song. Dean glanced over at the soul thief and flipped him off. The audience cheered louder. "One for the challenger," Dean said with a sneer.

"My turn," the other said, scrolling through the menu. He picked "Bark at the Moon".

The colored notes floated up in front of Dean and he started playing. _He would pick this one. I think it's still one of the hardest and if the hammer ons are like the ones in the real game this is not going to be fun. _He missed a note, bracing himself as the pain hit him. Someone in the audience tossed a bottle on stage, Dean jumped aside to avoid it. The glass shattered, Dean felt a piece hit him in the leg. The glass managed to lodge in his calf. Dean looked down at his leg. _Good thing I usually play Johnny Napalm, or that could be embarrassing. No spandex for me. _The guitar solo started. Dean ground his teeth together as he missed several notes in a row, the explosion of pain nearly driving him to his knees. He pushed himself up with a groan and finished the song. The energy he'd gained during the last song quickly drained away, plus a little more. He'd lost the song.

Dean leaned against the amp for a minute. "One for me," Grim said with a laugh. The audience applauded. Dean smiled, pushed himself off the amp and chose the next song.

Seven songs later, Dean was starting to worry about his chances. The pain increased in intensity with each missed note. Grim seemed to know which songs were harder for Dean to play and chose them consistently. Dean had managed two songs without a missed note and two more with only one missed note, he'd won four of the seven, but the losses were cumulative, where as the wins didn't seem to be.

Dean scrolled through the songs and chose "Carry On" as the song started he remembered the scene in the motel, Sam sitting beside him, singing with him. It helped his focus. _Have to give Sammy time to find the thief in the physical world. _Dean played without missing a note. As the song ended a bottle flew on stage, Dean caught it and tossed it over the singer towards Grim. "Bite me," Dean said, grinning.

"Okay," Grim replied. He scrolled through the songs. "Back in Black" popped up.

"Hey, wait a sec, that's not on Guitar Hero," Dean protested, waiting for the song to begin.

"Oh, yeah, I can pick any song. Didn't I mention that?" Grim started laughing as the song began. Notes were flying at Dean, he missed one, then two, the pain finally drove him to his knees. His fingers were slick on the guitar, on a pause in the music he pulled his hand away to wipe it on his jeans. It left a smear of blood. _Oh, just freaking great. He's cheating and I'm dying. Fun times. Sam? I hope you're doing better. _He forced himself up and kept playing.

**XXX**

Sam knew the instant Dean was gone. Even though Dean was lax against him, he knew his brother was still there, even when Dean's eyes closed. Then he was gone. Sam couldn't explain how he knew, but he knew. He shifted from behind Dean and lowered his brother gently to the bed. Blood was still running over Dean's face, Sam pulled several tissues out of the box beside the bed and wiped the blood away.

"I need to find the thief," Sam said, looking at Leo.

"I'll be here. If he gets bad, do you want me to transport him?" Leo asked.

Sam looked at Dean, he could see tiny tremors in Dean's muscles and his brother's eyes were moving a little behind his eyelids. "So, what? This isn't bad?" Sam said, surprised he'd said it out loud. "Maybe, call me before you do." Sam put his hand on Dean's chest for a moment, grabbed the keys to the Impala and headed towards the door. "I should be back in an hour," he said before walking out. He made it to the Impala before turning back. He walked into the room. "Forgot something." Sam pulled Dean's .45 out of his bag. He smiled at Leo and went back to the car.

Sam dropped into the driver's seat and stopped, resting his head against the back of the seat for a minute. _Dean, you better win. _He tucked Dean's gun under the seat and turned the ignition on. The deep rumble of the engine calmed him a little. He ran shaking hands through his hair and pulled out, heading into town to the shop where they had purchased the game.

When he reached the shop, he shoved the gun in his waistband, idly remembering the one time John had seen him do that. _A holster is a problem for you, now Sam? Did you even listen to one thing I told you? _The thought of his father caused a little ripple of pain and regret to flow through him. Sam shoved the emotion aside and walked into the shop. The shopkeeper looked up and smiled as Sam came in.

"So, are you back for more?" he asked. "I got a few new books in that might interest you."

Sam walked to the counter and leaned against it, leaving his right hand free so he could grab the gun if he needed it. "I wanted to talk about the video game my brother bought."

"Video game?" the man asked, frowning.

"Guitar Hero?" Sam looked at the man, he looked genuinely confused. "It was in the box for thirty-five dollars?"

"That's so strange." The shopkeeper walked from behind the counter, towards the back of the shop. "So very odd." He mumbled under his breath. In spite of the situation, Sam found himself grinning. "He said…It's just so strange, but I should recognize strange, shouldn't I?" The man continued talking to himself as he walked through the shop. He straightened things as he went.

"Excuse me?" Sam waited. "Excuse me?" The man finally looked up from the books he was straightening. "The video game?"

"What? Oh, right." The shopkeeper headed back between two large bookcases. When they reached the back of the shop, he pulled a large cardboard box out from under a table. "Was it a box like this?"

"Yeah," Sam said, looking at the box.

"It had a video game in it?" The man peered into the box.

"Yes." Sam huffed with impatience.

"What's in this box?"

"What?"

"Can you look in this box and tell me what's in it?" The man moved aside so Sam could look into the box.

"It looks like an X-Box." Sam reached down and pulled out the console.

"An X-Box?" The man took the console from Sam. "It's a video game?" He turned it over in his hands, poking at it.

"That's what an X-Box is, yeah."

"I know what an X-Box is," the man snapped. "But this is one? In this box?"

"It looks like one to me," Sam said, wondering what was going on. The man was frowning at it. "What does it look like to you?" Sam asked.

"It's a carved wooden box, antique, it has a small inscription in Latin and another in some form of Runes," he said, handing the box back to Sam. "You don't see that?"

"No, I see a video game."

"Odd. I did wonder," he said, walking back towards the front of the shop. "Bring that up here," he called over his shoulder. Sam followed him, when they reached the counter the man took the game from Sam. "I did wonder." He rummaged through some things set haphazardly on a shelf.

"Wonder what?" Sam was starting to get anxious. He'd been gone for half an hour. _Dean, hang on, please hang on. _

"When he brought them in, I had the oddest feeling about them."

"The boxes?" Sam asked.

"Yes." The man looked at him, "Why were you asking about them?" He was poking at the box with a small stick.

"My brother bought one, he's…sick…" Sam swallowed.

"Sick?" The man looked up.

"Yeah."

"Huh." He picked up a knife and began carving plastic off the game. "It could be, it just might be."

"Could be what?" Sam asked, keeping his voice calm. The urge to smash the game and shout for answers was beginning to make his hands shake again. _Dean, keep fighting. _

"It might be a soul trap."

"A soul trap?"

"Yeah, it's used by a…"

"Soul thief?" Sam said, looking at him. The man met his eyes. "Is it?"

"How did you know?" the shopkeeper asked.

"Lucky guess." Sam smiled. "Who did you get it from?" When the man hesitated, Sam leaned forward. "Who did you get it from?"

"If it really is a soul thief he'll come after me," the man said, fear sparkling in his eyes.

"If you tell me where he is, I promise he won't be back," Sam said softly.

"How can you be sure? It takes silver to kill one, I've never heard of anyone managing to actually kill one. Not since the thirteenth century."

"Sir Dennis, yeah," Sam said, nodding. "I know. And I will kill it." _I have to. Dean, hang on, keep fighting. _

The man looked into his eyes. Sam had the oddest feeling he was being summed up. Whatever the shopkeeper saw was enough. He pulled out a book and thumbed through it. "Gary Hiller. He listed the Bannock Apartments, number five as his address. To get there, go to the light, turn left, down five blocks, turn right. You can't miss them."

"That's the big blue complex next to the hospital, isn't it?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, he said he worked there. A janitor or something."

"Thanks."

"If you don't kill him, call me so I can get out of town, please" the shopkeeper begged.

"If I don't kill him, I doubt I'll be able to call you," Sam said, smiling. Sam walked out of the store, pulling his cell phone out. He dialed Leo. "How's Dean?" he asked when the doctor answered.

"I was just about to call you," Leo said.

"Why?"

"His hands are bleeding. A wound opened on his leg, it looks like it was sliced by something. Oh my god, hang on, Sam."

"What?" The doctor didn't answer. "Leo?"

"Sorry, Sam. His head is bleeding, a wound near the scalp. I think it needs stitches." Leo was quiet for a moment. "His breathing is off too, Sam I need to get him in to the hospital. I have to be able to deal with the bleeding. He's going to bleed out. I need to make the call."

"Let me talk to him first," Sam said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"He's unconscious, Sam."

"I know that, Leo," Sam growled. "Let me talk to him."

"Go ahead," Leo shouted.

"I'm on my way to kill the thief, Dean. Keep fighting, just a little longer." He waited for a minute, and Leo was back on the line. "I found the thief. I'm on my way there now."

"Hurry, Sam. Dean doesn't have much time left."

"Yeah, I know." Sam broke the connection and got in the Impala, blinking away tears.

_Hang on, Dean. Keep fighting just a little longer. Please, please, Dean, just a little longer._

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! I'm sorry my review replies are a little slow, I'm back on bed rest and limited computer time, so I'm trying to use my time to get these chapters out! I promise I'll reply as soon as I can. Extra special thanks again to Dennis for patience, music and introducing me to Guitar Hero!_

**Jukebox Hero**

**Chapter Five**

The crowd was cheering. A large number of the golden beings were on their feet applauding. Dean noticed quite a few of the demons were up and applauding him as well. He waved at the crowd, running his fingers over the strings of his guitar. He'd not only finished Grim's latest choice—"Satch's Boogie" by Joe Satriani—he'd beaten the soul thief as well. Dean grinned at Grim, flipping him off as he scrolled through the songs.

"How about the Ramones?" he called to the crowd. The cheering ratcheted up a notch. Dean started addressing the audience with each choice. He'd noticed more and more bottles were being thrown at Grim and fewer at him.

"Who wants to be sedated?" the singer said, rustling his wings.

"I wanna be sedated!" Dean shouted. The crowd exploded in applause as the song started. Dean was doing well until he got off rhythm on a long series of notes. Each missed not reverberated through his body with a shock of pain. His fingers were slipping on the strings. Blood was running into his eyes from a cut he'd received from a bottle. _Luckily most of the bottles are headed to the other side of the stage now. _He got with the beat, then noticed the crowd was booing. Without pulling too much focus from the song, he tried to see what was happening. A series of loud clunks told the story. Grim was missing notes. Dean grinned. The song ended. Bottles flew towards Grim, and a small jolt of energy flowed into Dean. He'd managed to win another one.

"My turn," Grim growled. He stopped on a song, turned to Dean and flipped him off with a bony finger. "A little Van Halen, maybe? You like 'Eruption', Dean?" Grim chuckled as the notes started flying at Dean.

He missed one, then two, then three. The pain finally drove him back against the speakers. Dean leaned against the cabinets as he struggled with the song. His leg was aching where the glass had cut it, his face and hands were bleeding, he was dizzy to the point where he could barely stand. Another missed note drove him to his knees. _I might be about at the end. _Even though he was missing notes, Dean noticed that Grim was still suffering most of the crowd's wrath. _Only a minute and a half, and almost over. Ah, shit. _Another missed note and spots were dancing before his eyes.

"I'm on my way to kill the thief, Dean. Keep fighting, just a little longer," Sam's voice drifted down over the music. Dean looked around, half expecting to see his brother standing beside him. "I found the thief. I'm on my way there now."

Dean pushed himself to his feet as the song ended. "Be careful, Sammy," he said, not sure if his brother would hear or not. He dragged himself back to the edge of the stage and started flipping through the songs. Dean stopped on one. He looked over at Grim. Blood was running down the skeletal face. _What the hell? _An idea started forming. _I have to win this one. _"I think it's time…" Dean shouted over the cheers. The audience paused in anticipation. "For a little…" He glanced at the singer and over at Grim. Blood was definitely running over Grim's face and hands. "Symphony of Destruction!" Dean finished. The audience was cheering as the song began.

Dean played flawlessly, resisting the urge to look at Grim each time he heard the clunk of a missed note. As the song ended, Dean felt energy flowing into him—he'd won the song. The pain backed off a little. The audience was on their feet, applauding, cheers and a chant of "Dean" filled his ears. Dean noticed two bottles arc towards the stage and hit Grim. The soul thief staggered back. _Okay, I hope this actually works. _Dean slipped the guitar off, carrying it by its neck as he walked across the stage. On his way past the singer, something soft hit him on the face. He looked down at the stage, it looked a lot like women's underwear. Dean glanced out at the audience. A very scary looking dark being waved at him. _Oh, just freaking great. Now the demons want me. I should be careful though, once you go demon, you never go back. Ha ha, focus, Dean._

"Need a break?" Grim laughed as Dean approached. "You're not looking very good, Dean. Your brother looks better."

"What's Sam got to do with this?" Dean grasped the guitar neck tighter. _I hope this works. This is a really nice guitar... Has to be done. _

"He's engaged me in the physical world," Grim said, wiping the blood off his face. He laughed. "You know what the best part is?"

"What?" _Can I really do this? _Dean waved at the crowd as the chant of "Dean, Dean, Dean" got louder. Small flames flickered over the heads of the audience.

"His research has a big hole in it," Grim laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"Sir Dennis didn't know everything. His partner was there when they defeated one of my kind. Physically in proximity. You are no where close to Sam. Even if you kill me here, even if he kills my physical self—if you aren't together…" He met Dean's eyes. "Oh, let's see…You both die. I win."

"Cheating again?" Dean asked, grabbing the neck with his other hand. _Like a baseball bat or an axe, what's better? An axe. Funny. _

"It's not cheating, it's the way the game is played. You just didn't have all the rules. Now, let's see, what's next?" Grim scrolled through a list of songs as Dean stepped closer. "Ah, here we go. 'Flight of the Bumble Bee', Rimsky-Korsakov."

"Guy Lombardo?" Dean said, lifting the guitar.

"What?"

"It's from 'Yellow Submarine'. You probably missed 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', too. Oh well, too bad for you." Dean took a deep breath and swung the guitar. The hard body of the instrument connected with Grim, sending his skeletal head flying into the audience. The body dropped to the stage with a last twitch. The audience was on its feet, wildly applauding. A rumble echoed around the stones, Dean realized it was the sound of thousands of feet pounding in time with the chant. "Dean! Dean! Dean!" He could see Grim's head bouncing over the audience like a beach ball. The singer came over and patted him on the back.

"I win," Dean said. Stonehenge faded.

A lurching motion sent pain shooting through his body. Dean opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the back of an ambulance. Leo was sitting beside the paramedic, watching a monitor to Dean's right. "Leo?" Dean said. He cleared his throat. "Leo?" The doctor looked over at him with surprise.

"Dean!"

"Where's Sam?" Dean tried to sit up.

Leo put a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the stretcher. "He's chasing the thief, Dean."

"Yeah, I know. Do you know where? We have to find him!" Dean shouted.

"He called. He's on the way to the hospital. He said the thief works as a janitor at the hospital."

"We have to get to Sam!" Dean struggled up again.

"You're headed there now, Dean," Leo said with a smile.

"Oh, right." Dean leaned back against the stretcher. "Can we go faster?"

Leo looked at the paramedic. "Rusty?"

"Sure, Doc Woods." He spoke with the driver, a moment later Dean felt the ambulance speed up as the sirens came on.

"Can you call Sam and see where he is?" Dean asked. "Don't tell him I'm on my way, okay? The thief can't know."

"Sure," Leo said, pulling out his phone. He spoke with Sam and looked at Dean. "Hospital basement."

"Okay, that's where we're going." Dean closed his eyes. _Hang on, Sam. Don't kill him yet. We're almost there. _

**XXX**

The Impala roared through town. Sam was focused on getting to the Bannock Apartments as fast as possible. He ran three red lights in his race to get to the thief before Dean's time ran out. He pulled into the parking lot at the building and sprinted towards the thief's apartment. Sam knocked on the door, then rang the bell. No one answered. He tried the doorknob, it was locked.

"Are you looking for Gary, dear?" a female voice asked from the next door down.

"Yes. Is he here?" Sam said, walking towards the elderly woman.

"He just left for work. He works over at the hospital, you know," she said with a smile. "Do you have a light?"

"I don't smoke." Sam smiled at her and headed back to the car. Before getting in, he opened the trunk and grabbed a silver knife. _Silver bullets in the gun, silver knife, one or the other should work. _A minute later he was speeding towards the hospital. He pulled out his phone as he drove and called Leo. "How's Dean?" he asked when the doctor answered.

"The ambulance got here a few minutes ago. We're on the way to the ER now," Leo answered.

"I'm on my way there too, the thief works as a janitor at the hospital. I'll find you once I've dealt with him." Sam disconnected the call, wondering how he could kill the thief in the middle of a busy hospital.

Sam went directly to the valet parking. Before he got out, he slipped the knife in his boot and made sure his shirt covered the gun. He tossed the keys to the valet, grabbed the ticket and walked quickly into the hospital. Sam stopped at the information desk, and smiled at the woman sitting there. "Hi, I'm looking for a friend of mine. He works here…" Sam leaned towards her. _This works for Dean. _"I'd like to surprise him, he hasn't seen me in a few years."

"What's his name?" she asked, a blush running up her neck.

"Gary," Sam paused. "Gary Hiller."

"Oh! I know Gary. He dated my friend Gwen last year." She smiled at Sam.

"Was she a blond?" Sam asked with a smile. The woman nodded. "That's Gary, loves blonds. Can you tell me where I can find him?"

She typed something into her computer. "He's working in the south wing, first floor. Across the lobby, follow the signs and then take the blue elevators."

"Thank you, Jolene."

"Sure, stop by on your way out." She wrote something on a slip of paper. "Or give me a call. Maybe we can double with Gary and his latest."

"Yeah," Sam said, taking the paper and heading across the lobby before she could see the blush coloring his face. _How does Dean manage that with a straight face and no blush? _He followed the signs and took the blue elevator to the first floor. The doors opened and Sam looked around. It appeared to be a service area, signs pointed the way to the laundry and employees cafeteria. Sam hesitated, wondering which way to go.

"I don't know, Gary, you look like shit. Your nose is bleeding," a male voice came from Sam's left. He headed down the hallway.

"I'm okay, it's just a cold or something."

Sam rounded a corner and saw two men, one with a bucket and mop, the other leaning against the wall. The man with the bucket looked up at Sam. "Gary?" Sam asked.

"Who wants to know?" Hiller said, leaning on the mop.

"My name is Sam. I'd like to talk to you about a video game…" Sam didn't get a chance to finish. Hiller swung at him with the mop and ran. Sam followed. As he was chasing the thief through the winding hallways, his phone rang. "What?" he answered as he ran.

"Where are you?" Leo asked.

"Hospital," Sam said, rounding another corner. Hiller had stopped by a door marked "basement" long enough to type some numbers into a keypad. He opened the door, slamming it closed behind him.

"Yes, but where?"

"I need to get into the basement. It has a keypad."

"Use my code, nine-five-two-seven," Leo said.

"Thanks, Leo." Sam typed the doctor's code into the keypad and opened the door. He could hear Hillers' footsteps echoing through the hallway. Sam raced down the stairs, taking three or four at a time. He reached the bottom and ran up the hallway.

The lights went out.

Sam stopped, trying to get his bearings. Something slammed into his chest. He gasped, bending over, as he did something hard came down on his head. He dropped to the floor, fighting a wave of nausea and dizziness. Footsteps pounded away from him.

"Dean's dying. He can't win," the thief called from somewhere ahead of Sam in the pitch black hall.

"He'll win," Sam said, forcing himself up. He reached out and came into contact with a wall. He shifted so he could lean against the support until the world stopped spinning. He fished in his pocket and pulled out his penlight. Before switching it on, he pulled the knife out of his boot.

"He can't win. He has to stick to songs from the game, I can choose any song," Hiller cackled.

"So, you're cheating?" Sam said, shining the flashlight around the corridor. It didn't cast much light in the large space. The thief was still hidden in the dark.

"I'm not cheating," Hiller whined. "Dean accused me of that, too. It's part of the rules, you just don't have them all."

"That's cheating," Sam persisted.

"It is not cheating!" Hiller said. Sam saw movement at the edge of the shadows. He swung the light in that direction—and something slammed into him from the other side. Sam staggered, the knife dropped from his hand and skittered down the hall into the dark. Something slammed into Sam again, sending him down to the floor. The flashlight was yanked from his hand.

"And you're still cheating," Sam said, pushing himself up with a groan.

"It's not cheating," the thief said angrily, his voice coming from further down the hallway. "I'm playing by the rules."

"You're cheating."

"Stop saying that!"

"You have to play by the rules, and you aren't. We're engaged in the challenge you have to play fair," Sam said calmly, listening for any sound of movement around him. He thought he heard something down the hallway by the staircase. Sam eased the gun out.

"How am I cheating?" Hiller asked.

"You turned out the lights so I can't see your attacks, for one thing." Sam reached a hand out, silently moving to the other side of the hall until he felt the wall.

"Fine. It's not cheating, but fine." Light flooded the hallway. Sam blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus. He raised the gun and pointed it in the direction of Hiller's voice.

"Now who's cheating?" The lights went out again.

"I can use a weapon," Sam said, trying to zero in on where the thief was standing.

"So can I," Hiller said. The lights flashed on. A shot slammed into the wall beside Sam, he felt something cut his forehead, and the lights went out.

"You're a bad shot," Sam said from his spot against the wall. He stepped silently across the corridor.

The lights flashed on. Sam saw the bullet hit the wall where he'd been standing. He managed to get a shot off before the lights went out. Sam heard a grunt of pain. "Aiming helps," Sam said sarcastically. He counted to three, took five paces down the hall and slipped back across until he came into contact with the opposite wall.

"It does, and this will probably kill me. One thing you didn't find in your research, though," Hiller said with a jeer.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, then moved again. _What did I miss? How could I miss something? Dean I'm sorry._

"Sir Dennis didn't have all the information." He waited for Sam to answer. _Yeah like that's going to happen. _"I die and you two aren't together? I win. Dean's life, your life…Oh and I get to live." Hiller was quiet again. The lights flashed on. Hiller was aiming at the place where Sam had been. Sam fired another shot. He saw it hit the thief high in the shoulder. Hiller turned the gun and took a wild shot before the lights went out again. "Don't you get it? If you kill me, you die too."

"And if I don't?" Sam asked, trying to think of a way to wound the thief long enough to drag him up to the emergency room where Dean should be by then. _Dean? Hang on, just a little longer. Keep fighting._

"I'll make you a deal."

"But if you get it all…" Sam stopped. _He dies. That's got to be it. We die, but he dies, too. He doesn't win. Okay. _

"Think about it, Sam. Stop now and only Dean dies."

"Do you honestly think that's an option?" Anger bubbled through Sam's veins. He forced the emotion away, calming his breath. _How dare he offer me… _The rage coursed through him again. _No, calm down, you need to finish this. _Sam took two steps back and stayed against the same wall. The lights came on again. Hiller fired at the wall across from Sam. The lights went out as Hiller turned the gun on Sam. "How did you do that?" the thief demanded. _How did I do what? _Sam stepped away from the wall into the middle of the hall.

The lights came on.

"Sammy! Down!" Dean's voice ordered. Sam dropped to the floor without thinking. He heard the dull _thud_ of a knife impacting flesh, Hiller grunted. "Stay down!" Dean growled. Before Sam could push himself up he heard Hiller's gun—and a loud curse from his brother.

"Dean!" Leo shouted.

Sam got up and turned to Dean in one motion. _Oh my god! _Dean was soaked in blood, one hand pressed against his side. "Dean!" Sam stepped to his brother as Dean's knees buckled. "How bad?" Sam demanded, his voice harsh.

"Just nicked me," Dean said, leaning on him. _Yeah, I believe you too, Dean. _Another shot slammed into the wall beside them.

"The guy's a lousy shot," Dean said with a smirk. Another shot came perilously close to Dean.

"Yeah, I know." Sam shifted his arm so he could support Dean, then turned around. The thief had Sam's silver knife sticking out of his chest.

"Remember the deal I offered you, Sam," Hiller said, pointing the gun at them.

"Yeah. Remember my answer?" He raised his gun and aimed it at Hiller. "Sorry, we win," Sam said, firing. It was a clean head shot, Hiller dropped to the floor.

"Nice shot," Dean whispered. Sam looked over at his brother as Dean's eyes rolled up in his head. _No, no, no. _

"Dean!" Sam eased his brother to the floor. "Dean! No!" Leo ran over and dropped down beside them. He had his hand on Dean's wrist checking for a pulse. "Leo?" he looked at the doctor, trying to fight back tears.

"He's okay, Sam. Nice strong pulse. We'll get him upstairs, but I think it's going to be okay."

Sam hands were shaking and the tears had broken free of his eyes. He pulled his brother against him. "You hear him, Dean? You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

**XXX**

The puffy, comfortable clouds of pain meds surrounded Dean. He floated up through them as awareness slowly returned. An antiseptic smell was there in the clouds. _Hospital. Great. _The vague memory of Sam carrying him up the stairs and putting him on a stretcher, of Leo's voice calling out orders, drifted into the clouds. _Sam! Is he okay? Well, he must be if he was carrying me. _A nagging doubt, remembered anxiety in his brother's voice and a brief impression of blood on Sam's face, pushed him the rest of the way out of the cottony comfort. A warm weight resting against the side of the bed in contact with his right elbow assured him of Sam's presence. Dean opened his eyes. Sam was watching TV.

"Sam?" Dean said.

"Hey," his brother said, turning to him with a smile.

"Are you okay?" Dean fumbled with the control on the bed. Sam reached over and hit the up button.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What's that on your head?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam's hand went to his head and found the Band-Aid stuck to his forehead. "Nothing. A piece of the wall broke off cut me when the thief fired at me, it's nothing Dean."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed.

"I'm okay, too, Sam," Dean said quietly. His brother looked at him. "I am, right?"

"Yeah, you're going to be okay."

"How long have I been here?" Dean asked, looking around the room. It was a private room. He could see out through the partially closed door to the hallway and nurses' station.

"About fourteen hours. The gunshot wound was superficial."

"Told ya," Dean smirked. "Is the thief dead?"

"His physical self is, what about the other?"

"Oh he's dead. They were playing ball with his head last I saw." Dean chuckled. "I whacked him with the guitar. I'm hell at whacking." Sam smiled as he recognized the quote, Dean grinned back.

"You make it sound fun."

"It _was_ fun. I had a '59 Les Paul, hot demon girls and angels were throwing their underwear at me…" Dean laughed. "They were cheering for me towards the end."

"So, is that the end when you were dying?" Sam snapped.

"No, that was the end when I won." He paused. "I'm okay, Sam." Sam ran his hands through his hair. "What?"

"I almost lost you, Dean."

"No, you didn't."

"All because of that stupid game. I should have realized what was happening. I should have…" Sam stopped. He looked over at Dean. _Oh, I know that look. No way, Sam._

"Sam?" Dean laid his hand on his brother's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You did figure it out. Don't start with the Sam Should Haves."

"The what?"

"The Should Have, when you try and take it all on yourself. Don't even start. You figured it out and we won." Dean clapped Sam's shoulder and settled back onto the bed.

"Okay." Sam said, he opened his mouth to say something, and shook his head. Dean saw the gears changing. "I went back to the room. The game was gone."

"What?" Dean looked at Sam. "My game?"

"You still want to play? After everything?"

"I'm not going to hold some supernatural freak trying to kill me against Guitar Hero. It wasn't the games fault," Dean said. "Damn."

"So, you really want to play again? You're sure about that?" Sam was grinning at him.

"Well, hell yeah, Sammy. What do you think?" He frowned at his brother.

"That's that I thought. Here." Sam put several boxes on the bed. "I bought them at a real store. Not used."

Dean eagerly opened the boxes. "Two guitars?"

"It's easier to put up with if I'm playing too." Sam laughed when Dean pulled a guitar out and started clacking the buttons. "I bought all three games."

"Can we play now?" Dean asked.

"I don't think the nurses would appreciate it very much Dean. Leo said you leave tomorrow, can you wait that long?"

"I don't know, Scully, can you wait that long to get your ass kicked again?"

"Dean?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Bite me." Sam grinned at him. "I plan on kicking your ass."

"I doubt you'll be kicking my ass anytime soon." Dean nudged Sam with his knee. _You okay, Sam?_

Sam met his eyes and nodded, answering the unasked question. "You want to put your money where your mouth is, Dean?"

"Can we play now?"

"I told you no."

"Buzz kill." Dean put his hand on Sam's arm, shifted around in the bed and got comfortable. He let his eyes close.

"Jerk," Sam said. Dean could hear the smile in his brother's voice.

Dean opened one eye and looked at Sam. "Bitch." He closed his eye again and let the sound of the TV and Sam softly humming "Carry On Wayward Son" carry him into sleep.

_**The End**_


End file.
